Exile
by The London Runner
Summary: On the break of a new day, Arthur Kirkland finds himself flooded with the memories of old regrets. Little does he know, the thing he fears most is just around the corner.


Source for cover art

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Arthur lay in his room, wrapping his arms around his legs to his chest. A shiver ran down his body as the cool breeze seeped in through the window, driving him to pull the bed sheets over his head. He curled up in a ball under the warmth, only the few feathers of his golden blonde hair skewed out from under it. The dim light of dusk was rising stronger by the minute, much to his dislike. Arthur tried to keep himself warm a moment longer, if only the wind hadn't brushed by harsher. With a groan, he hopped out swiftly to fetch for the cover ends. Then he pulled them all over his form in ruffles and mountains of sheets.

It would take quite a bit of time to remake the bed, seeing as at this point all of his regal pillows and feathers were thrown about the room, but no matter. For the moment all he needed was comfort, and relied on the nuzzle of the bed to meet his needs. Previously his mother had held him in this place to read him stories as a child, but now that she was gone that spot was left cold.

Cold as the last breeze that blew by before Arthur awoke. He had attempted to fight off the pestering light that awakened him, but alas surrendered to greet the day. He figured he'd at least earned a few more hours of sleep than before, and turned his emerald eyes on the curtain framed windows. Thorough the lace the sun shined to greet the Autumn day. It was the perfect time to go out for a walk, and take in a breath of fresh air.

However, Arthur had work to do, and he simply couldn't go strolling for leisure now. The young man slipped on an old navy suit, fiddling with his tie with his chin held up to the mirror. 'Looks well,' he thought, and after feeling freshened up enough, came out to the dining room. It was just like another day. Ordinary, mundane, and alone. He thought he enjoyed it, the company of utter emptiness. He was free to do everything by his own will.

It's not like there was anything wrong with sitting alone at the dining table, facing the empty seat across with but a lone glass of wine in his hand. He was content. Completely. Nothing mattered but himself here, and that was the way it should be... Shouldn't it?

Arthur eyed the vacant chair with a glare, gulping down his liquor to the last drop rapidly. They brought back old memories, and the sight of old envelopes and postcards from Italy came into his mind. He could remember the sweet smell of roses rested on his fingers as he held those letters. Each one signed off with a lovely little signature, a little cursive scribble that read...

_'Janie..._' The name escaped his lips, and the first memory flooded his mind. He could already hear the ocean waves of her home town brushing against the shore. I was a cool, windy day with clear skies, and he took the young woman by the arm to bring her to London... But alas, Arthur's sharp tongue and harsh demeanor drove her away in the end, the more he pushed to protect the vault of his vulnerability.

... Perhaps he should put the bottle of wine away, he thought. It only brought him mourning. It was the woman's guilty pleasure after all, and he honestly detested it. For the harsh reminders of his own mistakes that is...

Arthur then turned his eyes on the Union Jack raised up on his wall. It always made his chest swell up in national pride, but for some strange reason this time it stroke no effect. He furrowed his brows, upset that that familiar pleasant feeling seemed to have faded away. He blamed the fact that he was used to admiring it so often. Whether it be while he was working beside the Queen, or leading the soldiers, it was there...

Suddenly Arthur shook his head. He wasn't quite sure why he did so, but a sense of frustration ran through him... He glimpsed over at the piles of paperwork on his desk, and sighed. 'Perhaps a small break couldn't hurt...'

The gentle Brit slipped on a coat, and fitted a top hat to his head. In the flash of an eye he was out the door, giving only more glimpse at the flag. He shut the door behind him, flipping out his keys; a small creak snapped from it as she secured it shut, but he simply shrugged it off.

Arthur stuck his nose up in the air, enjoying the fresh aroma of rain and lillies. They mixed together so perfectly as he found enough serenity to close his eyes; enjoy it before going down the steps of his porch. However, instead of the natural shroud of darkness one would expect in shutting their lids, he was struck instead by the image of a young man on the ground. His face was marked with cuts and dirt, his cold blue eyes staring into Arthur's as he lifted the ragged flag of the Thirteen Colonies.

Arthur gasped, widening his eyes instantly. It was much too painful to remember that familiar figure so well, and he was going to try his best to avoid it. The rustle of autumn leaves were heard in the distance, and so he naturally turned his head to what the source could be.

"..." He peered around the corner. A sense of fear and nerve wrack came over him that seemed to linger. He took slow, cautious steps, and froze as the light crackle of leaves under his feet reached his ears. His expression could've looked so still as a statue if not his eyes were moving about. Those green irises that seemed to blaze so fiercely every moment he moved forward.

"... Ah!" Arthur sauntered to find a small rabbit nibbling on a blade of grass. The corners of his mouth pulled up into a smirk as a chuckle escaped his lips. 'Silly me,' he could've rolled his eyes at himself. Such paranoia wasn't healthy, even if he did have great vulnerability to anyone who wished him ill will out here.

It wasn't anything to worry about, he supposed. Now with a hop in his step, he advanced forward with a small smile still held on his lips. It all seemed well now, at least for the moment, now that that worry was out of the way. Hopefully he wouldn't feel this worried the farther out he'd go into the city, but surely he'd be alright so long as God was on his side.

Arthur tucked his hands into his pockets, enjoying the crisp breeze brushing by his cheeks. A moment more, and his mind had already been cleaned up of worry.

A calm, cool, quiet day... What could possibly go wrong? The young man found himself wandering into the forest with the intent of enjoying its nature, but as he approached its dark foliage, he heard a snap. Arthur paused, standing still as he faced the dark of the woods. A moment longer and he could've been gone, but as he spun around to meet the figure's eyes, his face froze in horror.

In its hand, a sword gleamed in the light, and whipped out to greet Arthur. '_Shling_,' it rang.


End file.
